


The benefits of diplomatic immunity

by Lost_gallifrey



Series: Friends with benefits [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:09:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3700406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_gallifrey/pseuds/Lost_gallifrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>What's a bored krogan to do in a quiet suite on the Citadel?.....entertain a drunk teammate of course!</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The benefits of diplomatic immunity

Shepard's entire funeral had been pointless.

Assorted human delegates, officials and councilors had talked about nothing for hours, while the rest of Shepard's crew managed to look dignified and tragic. Well, everyone except Tali.....the little quarian had started crying when the humans stuck an empty box in hole they had excavated in the artificial turf of the presidium. She sobbed until her faceplate was fogged and she had devolved into hiccuping helplessly on Liara's shoulder.

Vakarian had been there, standing honor guard with a handful of other C-sec officers. Wrex hadn't talked to the whelp in months, not since the idiot had admitted that he planned to go bellying back to C-Sec liked a kicked pup. 

It wasn't that Wrex cared. As far as the krogan was concerned Vakarian could go gravity jumping without a wingsuit, and Wrex wouldn't twitch a finger to stop him. That didn't explain why Wrex had bothered to headbutt the turian when he admitted to his C-Sec plans.....but the battlemaster didn't think he should be held accountable for random violence in the face of complete stupidity.

So Garrus had gone back to work for a bunch of paper-pushing beurocrats, and Wrex had gone back to Tuchanka to fuck enough willing females as it took to get the stink of turian from his hide. But there were nights when Wrex, sore and sated from his latest conquest, had tried hard to not remember. Not remember the weird metallic sheen of Garrus plates under the spray of the Normandy's showers as Wrex ground against him. Frotting almost to the point of pain, with Vakarian's long legs wrapped around his waist, and Wrex with a hand clamped over the turian's mouth to keep him quiet.

Or that underground pirate's den on some backwater planet. Shepard had gone back above ground to call the Normandy for a pickup, and Wrex had taken the opportunity to bend Vakarian over a blood spattered crate and fuck him with the still warm barrel of his rifle.

Only a handful of stolen moments, but each was enough to make Wrex fumble for a female in the dark. Press himself into willing flesh and force himself to deny any thought of wishing the hands on his back were slim and claw-tipped.

So Wrex spent almost the entirety of Shepard's funeral glaring at Vakarian across the crowd. The turian stayed frozen in an at-rest position and did his level best to ignore the krogan's gaze. After the service, the gathering had dispersed. The C-Sec guard had returned to work, and the rest of the crew had retired to a bar that was far too quiet, upscale, and refined for Wrex's tastes. Instead he had left and spent several hours downing ryncol shots in Chora's den.

In the end it was only the council's grudgingly administered diplomatic immunity clause that prevented Wrex from spending a few days in C-Sec custody. A couple of punks couldn't seem to keep their mouths shut, so Wrex took the opportunity to help them learn some respect. The battlemaster left them bruised and bloodied, while a surly human officer escorted Wrex back to his council-sponsored hotel room and respectfully requested the krogan not leave it again.

The suite was ridiculous. The entirety of clan urdnot could have fit in there with room left over for a varren pit. In fact kalros herself could have probably fit in there if she curled up a bit.

Wrex had wandered around the space long enough to realize three things: he was bored, he was hungry, and he was disturbingly horny. That in itself wasn't terribly surprising, he had drunk a lot, then fought......wanting to fuck was a natural krogan progression. He was just perusing the lackluster adult options on the vid screen when someone started knocking insistently at his door.

Grumpily opening the door, Wrex snorted in amusement. Vakarian looked like he'd been through the krogan rebellions backwards, and lost. The turian's normally impeccable C-Sec uniform was in complete disarray, with the snaps on his shirt undone so it hung open across one bony shoulder. For some reason he was only wearing one glove and no shoes.

“Vakarian?” Wrex rumbled, noticing the bottle Garrus had dangling from one hand....in fact the kid reeked of alcohol.

“Wrex!” Garrus had that slow deliberate way of speaking and moving that was the universal trademark of the very drunk.

For some reason he couldn't explain, Wrex moved aside and let the ragged turian weave his way into the room.

“Niiiiccce,” Garrus spun on the spot to take in the richly appointed suite, barely managing to avoid sprawling over a small table. Somehow Vakarian staggered across the room without tripping over his own spurs and plastered himself to one of the plexiglass windows, looking at the vertiginous view of the lower wards with hazy eyes.

Wrex watched Garrus gulp another mouthful of whatever he was drinking. The bottle wasn't designed with turian mouths in mind, and a good portion of the liquid wound up all over the whelp's shirt.

“How many you had?” Wrex watched in amusement as the turian tried to peer into the shadows of the bottle in search of any remaining alcohol. 

“Uunnh,” Garrus peered at his own hands and yawned before eventually holding up three fingers and announcing: 'Six!”

Every twisted fantasy Wrex had ever had about his teammate reared their heads and clamored for attention. The turian was loaded, Wrex could do anything he wanted he wanted and Vakarian couldn't do anything to stop him......probably wouldn't even remember it in the morning either. Instead he grabbed a handful of Garrus' shirt and hauled the turian bodily across the room, tumbling him roughly onto the oversized bed.

“Sleep it off, pup.” Gruffly, Wrex shoved Garrus back, making sure the turian planned on staying put. Vakarian looked drunkly baffled as to why he was being left in the bed by himself, but Wrex ignored him, as well as the protests from his own body.

“Hey....Wrex?” Vakarian yawned again, clearly struggling to stay awake. “I quit.”

“Quit what?”

“C-Sec,” the turian was fighting a losing battle with his lopsided shirt. “I ...quit C-Sec.”

Wrex watched until the turian relaxed into a loose limbed sleep, then, loathing himself for the implied sentiment, he dragged Garrus' shirt the rest of the way off and dropped a blanket over the slack form.

 

Settling onto a couch, Wrex resigned himself to a night of bad vidscreen entertainment, and his seemingly permanent companion: sexual frustration. The best vidscreen offering was some inane action vid called (ironically) 'C-Sec. It had been billed to the krogan population as a comedy, but about half way through Wrex realized it was supposed to be taken seriously....and promptly fell asleep.

When the battlemaster next awoke, it was due to something warm and naked slithering into his lap.

“What?” Wrex managed to mumble, finding himself face to face with a still dripping turian. 

Water was still coursing down Garrus' skin, and Wrex could see the trail of wet clawmarks across the carpet towards the shower. Towels were apparently a foreign concept, but at least Vakarian didn't smell like a barroom floor any more. Unbidden, his hand curved around the wet jut of hipbone, pulling the warmth of that strange body closer. The ridiculous formal clothes Liara had insisted he wear were soaking up water, and Wrex's body was starting to wake up with expected enthusiasm.

“So, old man,” Garrus dipped his head to lick a searing trail down the side of Wrex's throat. “Are you quite finished doing the honorable thing?”

“Honor had nothing to do with it,” Wrex dug his thumbs into the sensitive arc of Vakarian's waist hard enough to make the turian squirm. “I just tend to like having people awake when I fuck them.”

Garrus laughed silently, his breath an overhot bloom against the krogan's skin. “Promises, promises.”

“You still have a problem with keeping that mouth shut don't you?” The buttons and zippers of Wrex's clothing proved too frustrating to manipulate, and the krogan just tore roughly at them, setting Garrus aside long enough to kick his pants fee. Settling back, Wrex pulled the turian back into his lap so that Vakarians knees rested on either side of the battlemasters broad thighs. It was a position only made possible by the weird jointing of the turian's hips, Wrex suspected that a human male probably would have shuddered at the concept.

Wrex's cock rubbed against the soft hide of Garrus' stomach, painting an iridescent snake trail of precum where it touched. The battlemaster could feel Vakarian's pubic plates loosening, slicking the bottom of the krogan's cock with sexual fluid. Initially Wrex had found the fact that turian males generated their own lubrication to be disturbing, but now he found he rather liked the sensation.

Garrus arched into a long, slow grind, even as he caught Wrex's hand and brought the thick fingers up to his mouth, wetting and slicking them with that oh-so-clever tongue. About to suggest that if the turian wanted to put things in his mouth, he could definitely suggest more interesting parts of his anatomy; Wrex was silenced as Garrus rose up on his knees to pull the krogan's hand between his legs, bypassing the loosening pubic plates to press his thick padded fingers into the tight heat behind them.

Wrex's cock twitched violently as he pushed his fingers deeper into the turian, he was almost unbearably hot, unbelievably tight. Other than the memorable gun incident, this was uncharted territory.....it wasn't that Wrex hadn't thought of bending Vakarian over pretty much any available surface, it was the knowledge that if he did anything that would damage the turian for the mission, Shepard would have had his head on a stick. Wrex knew it was anatomically possible, he'd gone so far as to steal Tali's extranet link to do that particular piece of research....but he figured it'd be easier for everyone concerned if Garrus could walk on Ilos.

Pushing his fingers as deep as he could, Wrex curled them, enjoying the way Vakarian hissed and shivered, body flexing around him like a vise. If the whelp didn't stop moving like that Wrex was not going to be held responsible for the consequences.

Pulling Garrus' head down with a rough hand, Wrex made sure there was understanding in those pale, avian eyes. “Say no, pup.”

A low, shivering croon welled in Vakarian's throat as he pushed back onto Wrex's hand. There was absolutely no doubt in his eyes as he scraped his talons across the hide of his own stomach hard enough to leave a tracery of welts, and gave Wrex a clear and concise nod.

Wrex dragged a thumbnail down the seam of Garrus' pubic plating in a way he knew the turian liked: rough and firm. The battlemaster still found the interplay of shifting pubic plating and muscle to be disconcerting at best, and downright disturbing at worst....but the hot, slick weight of Vakarian's sex in his hand was familiar and arousing. The turian was as vocal as ever, and Wrex wondered briefly if any of the adjoining rooms could hear the multi-tonal cries of encouragement, and realized he really couldn't care if they could.

Wrex's hand was wet with fluid, and he used it to slick himself as best he could; pulling Garrus up by the hips so he could replace his fingers with the wide head of his cock. He could feel tremors running through the muscles in Garrus' back, and the turian was making low, half-tonal needy noises in the back of his throat as Wrex pushed further into him.

Reaching up, Wrex grabbed Garrus roughly by the fringe, digging thick fingers into the nerves at the base of his skull and pulling his head back until his body arched in a half bow. Knowing the young turian had little to no recoup time, Wrex worked him mercilessly with his free hand. Vakarian was almost painfully tight, and Wrex needed him to relax or the krogan was going to humiliate himself. 

“Come on, Garrus,” Wrex encouraged, feeling the turian's cock twitch and heat in his hand. “Don't hold out on me.”

Vakarian came with a low growl, teeth clenched and foot talons absolutely wrecking the couch. Wrex milked the aftershocks from him, and as the turian's muscles relaxed he grabbed him by the hips and roughly hilted himself in the pliant body. Garrus seized up like he'd been shot, every muscle clamping down on Wrex, twitching and jerking until the krogan was hard pressed not to cum on the spot.

“Try breathing, you idiot!” Wrex rolled his hips experimentally, groaning at the slow drag of friction. 

“Spirits, aaahn, f...fuck. Fuck breathing.”

“Not what I had in mind.” The krogan was, nonetheless, relieved as Garrus' hitched, gasping attempts at breathing evened out into something that might actually supply him with oxygen. 

Realizing that the position he was in wasn't going to give him enough leverage to be more than passive, Wrex gathered himself and surged to his feet. Vakarian was heavier than he looked, but the battlemaster had no problem hooking one of the turian's long legs over his forearm, and supporting the other with a hand on the spare curve of his ass.

Kicking a table out of the way and ignoring the ornate, and probably valuable, vase that shattered underfoot, Wrex pressed Garrus up against the wall. The turian scrambled for something to hold on to as Wrex backed off slightly and thrust in hard enough to make the turian's plates grate against the wall. Whatever the wall was constructed with gave too easily under his talons, and Wrex grunted in approval as Vakarian locked his spurs behind the krogan's back instead, clawed hands digging into the ridges of his hump.

Wrex could feel Garrus hardening again, and each rough thrust trapped the turian's cock between them, making him writhe with the rough stimulation. Pulling almost out, Wrex thrust forward hard enough to set off starbursts of pleasure through his body, Vakarian was burning hot, and his tightness was dragging sensation from every nerve ending the krogan possessed.

Vakarian came again just as Wrex was starting to feel the strain of holding him up. The turian cried out in a way that was half pleasure and half pain, every muscle in his body shivering on the edge of exhaustion as he went almost limp in Wrex's grasp. 

Wrex could feel the rising burn in his blood, the tightness in his quad that pushed him closer to the edge. The rock hard muscles in his thighs were starting to protest having to carry the turian's weight as well, so Wrex tumbled Vakarian onto the bed. Forcing the turian's thighs up and apart, the battlemaster stroked into him, enjoying the sight of Garrus spread out before him.

Digging his feet into the plush pile of the carpet, Wrex bucked forward, his thrusts becoming erratic. Garrus was too exhausted to manage words, low vowel sounds echoed in his chest as he rested his talons against Wrex's thighs, urging him on. Wrex's orgasm hit like the burst of a supernova. He knew he was digging his hands into Garrus' hips hard enough to bruise, but found he really didn't care as he grunted, spilling himself into the too-hot body beneath him.

“Nnnh,” Wrex grunted as another surge of cum was wrung from him, starting to ease himself free as the tightness of the turian was rapidly becoming to much for his sensitive cock. A wash of semen slicked Garrus thighs as Wrex pulled free, but the turian was too far gone to care. “You alright Vakarian?”

“Hmmm, spirits yes.....I may not walk for a week or so though.” Garrus blinked hazily up at Wrex, every inch the physical definition of fucked out.

“Serves you right, you arrogant young pup, “ Wrex leaned down to flick a finger against Garrus' nasal plating, “for calling me an old man!”

Wrex had decided that turians were better than solar heaters. It was rare that the battlemaster actually shared a sleeping ledge, or bed, with anyone. Sex was one thing, but only mated pairs trusted each other enough to let down all guards like that. It came as a surprise then, for Wrex to wake up with Garrus sprawled half across him like some kind of overly uncomfortable, bony blanket.

The first, almost overwhelming urge was for Wrex to kick Vakarian off the bed. It was his room after all. The second thought was that it was downright strange to see anyone that relaxed......it was almost endearing. Almost.

Shoving Garrus' leg off him, ending the discomfort of having a spur jammed into his thigh, Wrex sat up with a grumble of irritation. He'd drunk far too much ryncol the night before to be awake this early. 

To Wrex's amusement, Vakarian hadn't even stirred when the krogan had shifted. Looking at the sprawled form Wrex felt a momentary flash of guilt for the bruising that showed plainly on the unplated hide at hip and thigh.....he sometimes forgot that, for all his relative toughness, Vakarian was no krogan. Not that the turian ever complained.....

Reciprocity was a fairly foreign concept to Wrex. He made sure Vakarian enjoyed himself mostly for the purely selfish reason that if the turian did not, he might be less likely to let Wrex fuck him again. The battlemaster had thought in the past that it was lucky that Garrus got off on the rough and often painful treatment the krogan was all to happy to dole out. But for some reason, in the throes of an early morning hangover, it made Wrex feel strangely guilty.

On a whim he would later completely deny, Wrex grabbed Garrus by one foot and dragged him to the edge of the bed. It was a testament to how tired the turian was that he didn't stir as Wrex settled one lanky leg across his shoulders. He did however sit bolt upright with a yelp on confused protest when Wrex pressed his broad, fleshy tongue to the seam of his pubic plates.

“Wrex! What the ...yeah, stop that...really!”

“After everything we've done, you're going to go all asari-maiden on me about this?!” Wrex was irritated, it took a lot for the krogan to do something so completely selfless, least the whelp could do was appreciate it. “Don't tell me you've never had anyone do this before?” The krogan punctuated his question by lathing his tongue across Garrus' inner thigh; the turian tasted odd, slightly sweet with a metallic edge.

“No...no....really not,” Garrus waved helplessly at his sharp toothed mouth. “Would you let anything like this near your....wait, no, don't answer that. Oh spirits, would you stop that!”

“What, Shepard never went down on you?” Despite the turian's protests, Wrex could feel the plates loosening under his tongue.

“I wasn't fucking Shepard, Wrex!”

“Huh,” Wrex sounded slightly skeptical as he heaved Garrus' hips up a bit higher, bending was giving him a crick in the hump. “What that idiot in charge of C-Sec?”

“Pallin? Executor Pallin??!....that's just...no! Just no.” Garrus dug his talons sharply into the bedding, and Wrex could hear it start to shred.....good thing the council was paying the bill.

The turian was good and loose, and Wrex pushed his tongue between the half parted plates, stroking along the sensitive edge of the flesh beneath. Vakarian bucked helplessly, his free leg nearly catching Wrex in the side of the head until he trapped it under one arm, filing that particular reaction for another time.

“Ok...ok, you..c..can definitely keep doing that!” Garrus' subtonals were loud enough that Wrex was surprised they hadn't woken the people next door.

By the time Wrex took his cock into the fleshy folds of flesh under his tongue, Vakarian had absolutely destroyed the mattress. Another convert to the time honored tradition of krogan oral superiority.

Garrus tried to warn Wrex when he was close, but the krogan pulled him closer, enjoying the shivering keen that was the turian's response. Wrex thought he probably should have been revolted when Garrus jerked helplessly in his grasp, the salty-sweet taste of him flooding hot into the battlemaster's mouth. 

“That...that was...uuhn,” Wrex laughed at the glazed expression on the turian's face, the whelp's mandibles were hanging crooked and he looked like he was caught somewhere between shock and awe.

“Well don't get used to it,” Wrex's scarred mouth twisted into a smirk. “I wouldn't want to ruin you for your own species.”

“Haha,” managing to lever himself up on his elbows, Garrus shook pieces of mattress foam off his talons and blinked around at the room. “Well...that's going to be hard to explain.”

Looking around at the shredded bedding, gouged couch, shattered crockery, scratched and dented wall, and a sadly lopsided three legged table, Wrex had to agree. “Council is paying for it,” The big krogan shrugged, “serves them right for always going on about 'interspecies cooperation'.”

“Spirits Wrex, was that a joke?”

“ No. Here,” Wrex tossed some article of turian clothing in Vakarian's direction. “Get dressed, I'm hungry.”

For whatever reason, Garrus chose to wrap the remains of a sheet around his thin waist and disappear into the shower room to get dressed. Wrex shook his head in confusion....some of the other species' hangups were just bizarre. To the krogan it seemed pointless to be modest around someone who had been fucking you against the wall a few hours before.

Booting the door open with probably more force than was necessary Wrex was shaking his shoulders to settle his hump armor when the adjacent door opened and Liara walked out. 

“Liara.” There was the possibility that the rooms had particularly good soundproofing. Maybe Vakarian hadn't been as loud as Wrex had thought....

“Hello Wrex,” the asari couldn't look Wrex in the eye, and her scalp and cheeks were flushing a mottled kind of purple. There was still the possibility that she thought Wrex had simply brought someone home from Chora's den. Some nice krogan woman....

“Wrex?!” Garrus chose that very moment to appear , looking half dressed and disheveled and pointing at his bare feet, “What happened to my shoes?”

“Garrus?” A crease of confusion marred the skin of Liara's forehead, Wrex could hardly watch the dawning realization on her face.“But I thought...oh...oh,” the asari's eyes settled on a disturbingly obvious three fingered gash in the (presumably expensive) siding.”Oh...by the goddess.”

Wrex would often wonder later if Garrus was honestly oblivious, or being deliberately (and annoyingly) obtuse as he stepped forward to pat Liara consolingly on the shoulder. “The room is a bit trashed, but don't worry, Wrex doesn't have to pay for any of it. He's got diplomatic immunity.”


End file.
